The Storm
by Phantomdance
Summary: Camelot's Court Sorcerer, Merlin, finds himself separated from Arthur in the middle of a battle. He needs to find his way back to his King when the vision starts. He's been seeing auras which have manifested into waking visions. Will he be able to do enough to save Arthur in time? Or will the ensuing storm carry him away? CanonAU One-shot, I may put a part 2 to this.


Author's Note:

Because it needs to be said, I don't own BBC Merlin. I'm just borrowing the characters to help write a story.

Also in the summary, I said this was going to be a one-shot, but now I think I might continue further with this. Let me know.

Warnings: (Because you can never be too safe)

blood/gore/death/potential major character death/Visions?

On the eve before the battle, Merlin sat beneath a tree away from the campfire and the other cheerful soldiers. It was difficult for him to laugh and joke with others when the war threatened just on the horizon of tomorrow. He found it even more difficult that his magic had been acting up. The last thing Camelot needed was her Court Sorcerer seeing things that weren't there. He hadn't the time to ponder their meaning or do any research on the topic and besides, he didn't want to worry anyone if there wasn't an issue. The colors started appearing only a week ago.

A cool breeze whispered through the trees where their camp lay making Merlin shiver. He understood what his mother and Gaius meant when they said they could feel a storm coming. His bones ached and his teeth chattered. He looked back and forth from the depths of the forest to the open field before them where they would soon fight. A war in autumn, just weeks before winter was due to arrive was ill-advised. He told Arthur that several times. But to prevent the invaders' advances, they needed to act now. He gripped his cloak tighter around him and met Arthur's eyes from across the camp.

Camelot's King excused himself from his knights and walked over to where Merlin sat, isolated from everyone else.

"_Merlin,_ any particular reason that you're sat shivering away from everyone?" Arthur inquired with a slightly teasing tone as he sat down beside him.

"It's cold, Sire," Merlin responded. He kept his eyes on the woods this time since trees didn't give off any colorful auras.

"You could remedy that by sitting by the fire." Arthur stated, "Come on, up you go!" He stood up and grabbed Merlin's arms, yanking the young warlock up to a standing position. Merlin made dissatisfied sounds as he was manhandled into standing. Once on both his feet, he decided to lean back against the tree and assess Arthur.

Arthur's aura was golden but quickly being overtaken by blue. Merlin's chest ached as he watched Arthur's smile slide off his face and be replaced with a frown.

"Merlin?" Arthur said his name in a questioning tone, asking things Merlin couldn't yet answer for he didn't know how to express the chill in his bones of a storm coming. A storm he fears he can't control.

"I've been having visions…" Merlin began.

"Dreams?"

"No, waking visions." Merlin corrected. "It's mostly colors surrounding people, but they don't always stay. They're here one moment and then gone another. Sometimes they change. I don't know what to think of them."

Arthur rested a firm hand on Merlin's cloak-covered shoulder, "Merlin, are you okay to fight?"

"Yes," Merlin answered without hesitation. "I'm just worried about what it all could mean and what tomorrow will bring."

"I know."

They remained there by the tree, Arthur keeping his hand steady on Merlin's shoulder. The happy sounds of the Knights were beginning to die down with the flames. A solemn air wafted over their camp. Arthur opened his mouth to speak but Merlin found himself talking.

"My mother used to say that nature always finds a pathway, whether old or new and it will restore whatever balance upset it on its own," Merlin whispered as the cold breeze whistled through the leaves above him. He observed on yellow leaf forced to dance along with the breeze until it laid to rest on the ground. He didn't think it was a good idea to tell Arthur that the leaf had a gold outline to it. "I think there's a storm coming, Arthur, and I don't know if I'll be able to stop it."

"MERLIN!" Percival yelled a warning as a knight from a foreign kingdom raised his sword to strike the warlock down. Without looking, Merlin incanted a spell, asking the earth to bend to his will as polite as one could during the war. And the earth responded. Beneath the warrior's feet, the ground cracked and opened, swallowing the soldier up to his shoulders and pinning his arms in place when the earth hardened again around him.

Merlin nodded to Percival in thanks who launched back into the fight, a blueish smoke trailing behind him. The colors were appearing again, but unfortunately, he hadn't the time to perceive their meaning. He needed to find Arthur. They had gotten separated when the first trebuchet launched its destructive projectile; crushing men like they were nothing but ants and the shockwaves forced men to fly through the air.

Swords were clashing, there were sounds of trebuchets launching large rocks into the rows of Camelot's finest. Merlin deflected these projectiles to the best of his ability; narrowly missing his own men who braced themselves to the best of their abilities. A few other sorcerers on their side were making a large shield which demanded constant concentration to maintain as it got bombarded with rocks. A few knights guarded these magic-users with swords and shields; scowling at any who looked in their direction and swinging swords at those who dared to come near. For if one wizard fell, then the shield would evaporate like a puddle in the face of the burning sun. Merlin decided to give them a little help, it would distract him from the fact that those knights had a purple glow emanating from them that had nothing to do with the sorcerers magic. With a hastily muttered spell that he made up as he went, he infused some of his own magic to strengthen the shield. Now the others must keep it in place.

Merlin pushed his way through a wall of soldiers with a sweeping motion of his hand and glowing golden eyes, he didn't even bother to look where they landed. He ran into the center of the clearing he made, turning around in a circle and scanning the field for Camelot's King when his vision started to become fuzzy.

He blinked.

The battle started to slow and time decelerated to a crawl, but it was not his intention to do so.

The grassy green fields were trampled down flat from the hooves of war horses and the wheels of carriages and trebuchets. The ruts created by those wheels will leave scars for many years to come. But if left untouched, then one day these fields will be vibrant again, fertilized with the lifeblood that left the bodies of men and women. The still wet blood that resided on the ground began to flow together, like many small trickling tributaries feeding the ravenous river. The blood river proceeded across the battlefield, running much too fast in the near static environment. It twisted and turned, leading to its end; whether that be like normal rivers spilling out to the ocean or being damned off to create a lake. It ended somewhere. Merlin followed.

His eyes remained gold as he deflected arrows and other projectiles away from his comrades. Altering their courses with ease and directing them at his enemies. He noticed how one of Camelot's knights seemed to stare right at him. He was golden. All of Camelot's fighters were golden and their opponents were gray shadows.

_Mordred,_ Merlin spoke in his mind as he passed.

With a slow blink and eyes alight with recognition, Mordred responded, _Merlin, what are you doing?_

_I'm not sure._ He answered then grunted in pain.

_Merlin, what was that? Are you hurt?_ Came Mordred's voice, more urgent this time.

Merlin severed their conversation. He knew that Mordred and he were going to have a chat later. How could time have slowed but their telepathy remained at a normal pace? For a brief moment, Merlin allowed himself to feel grateful for their friendship. They could have been enemies. Both Mordred and Morgana.

_Morgana_, he thought of her. _Where are you?_

Her response came instantly. _Merlin? Where are you? Everything has slowed down, I can't move normally._

Merlin ignored her question, _Are you hurt?_

_No, nothing serious._

_Have you seen Arthur?_

_Last I saw him he was with you, _Morgana answered. _Merlin, what is going on?_

Merlin cut communication with her, knowing that he would get a tongue-lashing later. All conversations would have to be put on hold. He had a sinking suspicion that he knew where he'd find Arthur. He continued to follow the river at a run.

As the sun sank toward the horizon, the day and the conflict were coming to an end, Merlin continued his desperate race. If they were lucky, the next day would arrive in its normal fashion and the next fight would decide not to show its face. If they were lucky, Arthur would be safe and uninjured, their knights would be alive, and their war would be won with their enemies in retreat. But Merlin knew that good fortune tended to visit on the back of great sacrifice. What sacrifice that needed to be made was still not determined. The misfortune of lost life and the fortune of winning the war. The misfortune of a betrayal of a friend and the good fortune of an unlikely companion. Much is lost before anything is gained.

The sky turned pink and blended with the red of the river. The horizon becoming an obsolete idea, for one can't make it to where the sky meets the earth if the two become one. The scent of gore burned his nose and the red waters began to rise; bursting from its banks and lapping at his ankles. He came to a quick stop, mouth dropping open in surprise which turned into a grimace. _Why is it overflowing?_ He asked himself, rubbing at his head with his fist. The scent was giving him a headache. When the blood water reached his calves, his curiosity withered away and turned into anxiety that increased with every inch the bloodbath rose.

The pain from before started to lace up his arm, and then his legs, and then his torso. It kept beginning in new places and traveling throughout his body. What exactly occurred, Merlin couldn't decipher. The colors were mixing together and becoming muddy. The world as he knew it was gone in a wash of reddish brown and he didn't have the luxury of time to figure it out.

"ARTHUR!" Merlin screamed for him, but no sound came from his mouth.

The red, sticky liquid now reached his waist, splashing upon his face as he tried to slosh through its viscosity. Understanding that running had lost its usefulness Merlin took a deep breath and dove into the river. Moving with the current of blood; swimming through the battle's veins to its heart. And as always, Arthur could be found there. He shouldn't need this dreadful vision to communicate that.

"Merlin?" A response reached him sounding concerned but not weak.

_Then why am I receiving this vision? _Merlin thought to himself.

Suddenly, the blood disappeared, the colors reset, and the world resumed its normal speed. He knew once the adrenaline stopped pumping through his body, he would have a migraine that would take days for him to recover from.

Merlin stood a few paces away from Arthur and took in the sight of him. The setting sun reflected off his armor, glowing gold. His hair lit up like a sort of halo worn by the divine. Relief washed over Merlin like the cleansing rain after a hot summer's day and his shoulders dropped their stiff posture. He relished in the sight of his King... fighting three opponents. His sense of ease evaporated in the heat of the battle. He pushed his hand toward one of Arthur's opponents, his magic causing the knight to lose his balance. The language of the Old Religion used by an unfamiliar voice tore his intense attention away from Arthur and to the figure standing the same distance from Arthur as him.

With narrowed eyes, Merlin brought his hands up and took a few steps to cut off the sorcerer's line of sight. Recognizing the level of concentration required to complete a complex spell, blocking off the target would distract him and take away from the power. He heard the man mutter an ancient chant, one that called forth energy far greater than any man and knew the spell to be far too powerful for Arthur to survive. He wouldn't allow it.

"STOP!" He roared out, directing the verbal and mental shout to the wizard preparing his spell; breaking his concentration for a critical moment. He raised his hand toward the sorcerer and held him there.

The now frozen man glared at Merlin. "You won't stop me. Once the spell is started it must be completed. You know this, Emrys."

Merlin approached with certainty in each step, exuding a strength borne from carrying hardships that have left scars, a strength created from every gasping breath taken as he tried to prevent his grief, a strength that was forged in fire along with the metal for swords. He cast a sideways glance and saw Arthur gain the upper-hand on his opponents. Maiming one and killing the other two with well-aimed blows.

"Merlin…" Arthur came closer.

"Stay back, Arthur," Merlin ordered.

Arthur took another step toward him. "You're bleeding."

"Not mine," Merlin clarified but questioned his own response when the pain that he ignored decided to make its presence known. _The river of blood must not just be the others'. _He clenched his jaw and stood strong, staring down his opponent that remained frozen.

"There are arrows sticking out of your body, Merlin." Arthur insisted. His attempt at exasperation failed as his tone was edged with fear.

"Not important. Find Morgana, she'll know what to do."

"Merl-"

"Now Arthur," Merlin cut him off, turning his head to face Arthur who's eyes were wide with shock and fear. "I can't prevent him from completing the spell forever. Go, please."

Arthur narrowed his eyes and stared at him hard, "Promise me you'll make it back, Merlin."

"Please, Arthur. Go." He begged.

"Promise me," Arthur repeated, his voice colored with desperate determination.

"I promise." Merlin lied and Arthur accepted it with a nod, charging off in the opposite direction to save a Kingdom that Merlin didn't think he'd return to.

"Camelot! Retreat!" Arthur cried out, rallying his men back toward their camp

With Arthur headed toward relative safety, Merlin contacted Morgana and Mordred, asking them to get everyone inside the shield and to not let it fall. He blocked them out before they could respond.

"You will die, Emrys." The sorcerer reasoned as he saw what Merlin was doing. The magic of his sorcerer's bubble together in the form of a dome, being assaulted with rocks, spells, and swords. He needed to end this soon. "But if you join-"

"Don't ask me to join you." Merlin snarled at the man. "I've been asked numerous times to break my allegiance to Arthur. I will never turn my back on him."

"But Emrys, would it not be wiser to join your opponent than to die?"

"If I die, then I die," Merlin responded. His indifferent tone a far cry from the anger he just expressed. "But I've been known to be pretty difficult to kill."

"Fine then!" His opponent growled. "You'll die and I will laugh while your beloved King watches the light leave your eyes and then I'll laugh when he walks away from you! Leaving you on the ground like a broken tool beyond repair so he can go and buy a new one!" The sorcerer yelled. He broke free from Merlin's hold on him and continued the spell.

Merlin's anger flared, but he remained calm. His face impassive as if cut from stone, and his eyes gold. He spoke in a cold tone and his voice carried over the battlefield. It cut through the noise of the struggle and muffled the chanting of the sorcerer he stood before, "May the Lady of the Lake allow you safe passage into Avalon, for I certainly won't."

Then a dark orb released from the sorcerer's outstretched hand, Merlin reached out his own hand as if to catch it. The energy of the wicked spell coursed through his body, and he barely contained his jerking movements as he controlled the spell. He held the energy of a storm of darkness… a storm… _it's a storm_. He called forth storms before when balance demanded to be restored. It was time to turn this against them. With a powerful shout that echoed across the battlefield, Merlin cast the orb into the darkening sky. Gray, opaque clouds gathered and the first bolt of lightning struck where Merlin commanded. His opponent was staring mouth agape as he hyperventilated. The sorcerer was frozen to the spot and this time it wasn't Merlin who held him there. It was the man's own fear. The thunder that came after the lightning struck, rumbled a warning to all left without shelter and Merlin, caught up in the power of the spell, translated in a booming voice what the thunder shouted.

"Make no mistake! The storm cares little for the lives it takes. Take shelter or we will strike you down where you stand!"

Then the sky exploded with lightning again, the thunder was deafening, the rain came down with a vengeance drowning those laying on the ground with little to no life in them. And at the center of the storm, shaking, screaming and crying out for his friends, was Merlin, hoping that the shield held strong and that those he loved were safe. The storm wreaked havoc throughout the night, the voices of the dying were buffeted by the fierce winds. The voices of the dead reached Merlin's ears without the wind's help.

A singular shaft of light crept over the horizon as dawn announced her presence and for the first time, the storm began to subside. The howling winds quieted to a whimpering breeze, the lightning contained itself to the sky only and the dark clouds drifted away while grumbling with the last remaining thunder.

The storm ended. The sun rose. The shield held. And Merlin fell.


End file.
